


Regular

by genuslocii



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Love Triangles, at least for some of them, jeongmi friendship, oh jennie is also there, squint for samo and chaeyu, the last three characters tagged are just mentioned, theyre messed up people alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genuslocii/pseuds/genuslocii
Summary: Jeongyeon is a bartender. For some reason, people seem to think that means she’s worth sharing their drunken confessions to.Especially this one girl with the brunette hair and the bunny teeth.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Yoo Jeongyeon, Myoui Mina/Son Chaeyoung, Park Jisoo | Jihyo/Yoo Jeongyeon
Comments: 21
Kudos: 129





	Regular

**Author's Note:**

> In which everything’s a mess, including the author, the writing, and the characters. And some get their happy ending, but most don’t.
> 
> //
> 
> 2yeon centric, jeonghyo love triangle, michaeng background focus, chaeyu and samo background

“—and then I stumbled and fell right into her lap!”

Jeongyeon scrunches her face, nodding slowly, sympathetically, as she rubs the cloth around the rim of the glass she’s holding. She glances once at the girl sat in front of the counter, who’s just finished her third glass of a tequila sunset.

God, she looks wasted already. She’s still only a sophomore in college.

The girl throws her hands up, splays her bare arms out on the table surface. Beneath her lashes, her eyes are staring up at her expectantly.

She supposes it’s time.

“That’s pretty embarrassing,” Jeongyeon comments, setting the glass down on the tray behind her. “Want another glass?”

“Yes, please,” the girl burps out.

“So, what happened then? With this… ‘Chewy’ girl?” Jeongyeon asks absentmindedly as she prepares the next batch of fruits.

“Tzuyu!” the girl exclaims, wiggling a finger at her. Her eyes flicker to her face then to her drink. “Her name is… Tzuyu… not Chewy—God, isn’t—isn’t that from Star Wars?”

“Sounds pretty much like Chewy to me anyways,” Jeongyeon chuckles at the young girl’s inebriated state, at the way her words slurred and jumbled together.

The girl huffs. “ _Anyways_ , so, I tried to get up, but then—” the girl pauses for a burp. “But then my best friend who’s just as much as a dumbass as me—she just—she tried to help me, but it didn’t work because my coffee just spilled over Tzuyu instead!”

“Damn,” Jeongyeon whistles, pouring the sludge from the blender into a glass.

“ _Damn_ , right!” the girl practically growls, and if Jeongyeon hadn’t already perfected the art of listening to a drunk, she’d have burst out laughing. “I remember just getting up and seeing—shit, you should have seen her face. Her eyes were like, like—they were like on fire. It was like she was looking at shit she’d stepped on.”

“Oh no,” Jeongyeon snorts, uncapping the bottle of tequila.

“I wanted to cry so bad,” the girl whines. “I’m never gonna get another chance with her again all because of my stupid best friend!”

“And you,” Jeongyeon reminds her, just as she finishes the drink.

“And me!” the girl says, her tone sad, but her eyes lighting up at the drink.

Jeongyeon shakes her head, chuckling. “Tell you what—Chaeyoung, was it?” she slides the drink towards the girl. “You want to hear what I think?”

“No,” Chaeyoung grumbles, accepting the drink.

Jeongyeon pretends not to have heard her reply. “I think you should confess.”

“After doing that to her?” Chaeyoung scoffs. “She’d probably say, ‘I’d rather date a dumpster’—wait, I _am_ a dumpster. Fuck, yeah!”

Jeongyeon could only watch helplessly as the girl giggles to herself. She really is quite a light drinker.

“Chaeyoung,” Jeongyeon leans on the counter, staring pointedly at the girl across her. Though she’s still giggling, she meets her gaze anyways, raising her brows. “Tomorrow you’re gonna be resting, yeah? Your hangover’s gonna be pretty bad, so you’ll rest. If you can, I want you to think about your feelings for this Tzuyu girl.”

The girl mirrors the image of a kicked puppy in that moment, eyes popped out, twinkling against the lights, lips pouted.

“And then when you see her again, you apologize and tell her the truth.”

“But that’s so hard!” Chaeyoung whines, putting her drink down. “What if she really rejects me?”

“There’ll be plenty of other fish in the sea,” Jeongyeon answers, smiling. “But if you don’t tell her at all, you’d stay stuck forever. And who knows? What if she’ll actually give you a chance? You’ll only know if you tell her.”

Chaeyoung averts her gaze. Her lips stick out into a small pout, her tongue between her teeth, contemplative. Her eyes linger on a random spot on the marble counter. Her finger runs along the rim of her glass.

“I’m just… scared,” she admits.

“You’re not gonna get anywhere in life staying scared all the time.”

Chaeyoung looks at her then, an eyebrow quirked. She hums, considering, before she raises her glass to her lips.

_“Chaeyoung-ah!”_

Jeongyeon smiles, resting her chin against her palm as she watches another young woman weaving through the crowd that has accumulated on the floor around the billiard tables and arcade games. Her shoulders are tensed, and there’s anxiety written all over her features—still, she walks assertively towards the girl on the counter.

“Oh, my God,” the girl breathes out when she sees Chaeyoung’s state, running her hand through her hair. “How much did you drink?”

“Three glasses,” Jeongyeon answers for her.

The girl shoots her a dangerous look. “Seriously?”

“Hey, don’t look at me—I just do what’s paid for me to do,” Jeongyeon raises her hands up.

The girl sighs, runs her hand through her hair again as she looks at the inebriated sophomore.

“Come on,” she grumbles, taking the girl’s arm and slinging it around her shoulders.

“Mina- _yaaaah_ ,” Chaeyoung singsongs, giggling.

She watches as this new girl—Mina, it seems—huff and grunt as she pulls the girl to her side, doing her hardest to keep them both steady. She’s awfully careful, and her eyes swim with worry as they trail along the girl’s soft features.

Jeongyeon cocks her head to the side. Peculiar. “Are you her best friend?”

Mina looks at her, brows furrowed. “No. I’m…er, I’m just her tutor.”

“Oh,” Jeongyeon’s brows shoot up. “Oh,” she says again, a little softer this time.

The other girl looks anxious.

“Take care of her then,” Jeongyeon tells her, smiling lightly, like a small apology.

The girl nods, turning and leaving with a little effort, as she drags the younger girl along with her.

The only thing left behind is the untouched glass of sunset.

Jeongyeon sighs, watching the oranges and yellows swirl inside the liquid. She glances up again, watching the bodies along the dance floor swaying mildly to the relatively laidback music, watching the pair walking towards the door on the other side. Though everything is bathed in the blues of the overhanging lights, she can see Mina’s head tilted to the side, glancing over and over again at the shorter girl she’s carrying.

Jeongyeon only hums. They disappear just as the next song plays.

She runs her hand along her face, pinching at her cheeks. It’s strange. She takes her phone out and checks her appearance on the front camera.

“Do I still look _that_ friendly?” she mumbles incredulously, eyes sweeping over her relatively haggard form in the screen. Her eye bags are prominent and dark. She’d put barely any makeup on too—just thrown in some lipstick and powder.

It’s safe to say she’s not at her best right now—she’d practically ran all the way to the bar after waking up from a long afternoon nap. She looks quite hung-over even though she’s not. Still, Son Chaeyoung wasn’t even the first to approach her since the start of her shift, wasn’t the first who’d unceremoniously dumped all their baggage on her so randomly.

It’s been two months, and she’s still not used to the random encounters with the bar’s patrons. It’s not unpleasant, no—but nonetheless she feels uncomfortable holding some of their secrets. Some of them can be pretty dimwitted. It’s exhausting.

As she swipes the camera out, she notices the time.

11:00 PM.

Which means—

“Oh yeah, you definitely look friendly.”

The sarcasm is practically dribbling out of that voice.

Jeongyeon lowers her phone and immediately fights the urge to roll her eyes at the pearly white grin that greets her.

“Good evening,” she deadpans with a tight smile.

The new patron leans forward into the counter, eyes locked with Jeongyeon’s. She glances at the drink in front of her.

“This yours?”

“Every drink is mine,” Jeongyeon answers, taking the cup from the table. What a waste.

“Wait, no—I want it!” the girl whines, reaching over.

“No, that’s—who takes random drinks they find on bar counters?” Jeongyeon questions with a raised brow, keeping the drink as far as she can from the girl’s reach. “Are you fucking drunk already?”

“No, just two shots of some beer in,” the girl huffs, retracting her arm. “That drink isn’t touched, is it? Just give it to me, come on, I’ll pay.”

“How would you know if it was or not?” Jeongyeon puts a hand on her hip.

“Because you’ll tell me.”

The girl blinks at her, lips downturned into a little pout. A mischievous little pout. Her eyes remained fixed on hers, shining against the lights, as if lit up by the fire of a silent challenge.

The same sort of challenge she starts every single time she shows up in this bar, at 11 PM, every single weekend.

And each time, Jeongyeon looks away first.

She slides the drink over to the girl, who then flashes her a smug grin.

Im Nayeon could really be the death of her.

She watches as the girl downs it all in one go, not even pausing for a breath. She can see the beads of sweat lining the whole span of her neck, shimmering then, can see the way her throat moves with each gulp.

Jeongyeon swallows as she looks away.

When the girl finishes, she smacks her lips and sets the cup down on the table hard.

“Careful with that,” Jeongyeon chides. Though it falls mostly on deaf ears, as the girl has already scooted closer, leaned her whole weight against the counter.

“So… Jeong.”

“We’re not at a nickname basis. It’s still Ms. Bartender for you,” Jeongyeon retorts.

“I’m older than you, you know.”

Jeongyeon sighs. “Ms. Nayeon, I am a bartender. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Well, we know each other’s names—isn’t that more than enough?”

“Most of our customers know my name too—that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“But you listen to me!”

“I have ears made for listening—you’re nothing special.”

Nayeon frowns deeply, blowing a stray strand of hair off her face in exasperation. “Why are you so grumpy today? You weren’t grumpy before, especially when we first met a month ago.”

Jeongyeon remembers that day clearly. She had only just started to become accustomed to the ropes, the ins and outs of her job, when the girl had first waddled in. She was more timid then too, and she’d hesitated first before speaking.

Now, Jeongyeon would probably be willing to sell her soul just for a chance at peace and quiet in the presence of the girl.

However, it’s true that she is uncharacteristically grumpy today.

She could chalk it up to her monthly cycle, but—

She sighs, taking the empty glass from the other girl. “You’re right. I’m sorry, ma’am, how may I help you today?”

Nayeon’s frown dissolves into a sly grin. “Finally willing to kiss my ass then?”

“Business is business,” Jeongyeon mutters.

Nayeon hums for a long moment, eyes sweeping over the crowd in the bar. It’s a little thick today, in spite it being a Sunday, with most of their customers belonging to the nearby college. Some have gathered around the dance floor, others around the gaming area, and still some choose to remain close to the walls, away from all the ruckus.

“So, today—”

There it is.

Jeongyeon sits herself down on a nearby stool, trying her best to focus solely on the glass she’s wiping clean.

If only another patron could come and order.

Unfortunately, they’re all weirdly busy.

“Today,” Nayeon begins, smiling a little wistfully—or maybe sadly. “I saw them together again.”

Jeongyeon lets loose a quiet sigh.

“I’m guessing that’s why you’re here today.”

“I’m always here, though,” Nayeon giggles.

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

Nayeon’s laughter fades away, replaced again with her thoughtful humming. “They were holding hands in the mall, sharing a single cup of coffee.” She looks up, and Jeongyeon can see the light shimmer in her wet eyes. “Momo was holding the cup, and she held it up to Sana’s lips. It was so domestic.”

Jeongyeon sets her cup down.

“If I were any other person, I would have found it so sweet,” Nayeon sighs. “But I’m not just any other person.”

“Just a girl with an unrequited love,” Jeongyeon finishes for her, the phrase already familiar, already branded into her memory.

Nayeon smiles. “See, I told you we were friends.”

It’s Jeongyeon’s turn to hum as she leans forward, staring lazily at the other girl. “I’m just a bartender who’s heard you crying about the same person for a whole month, Im Nayeon.”

Nayeon giggles, leans even closer, locking her own gaze with hers. Jeongyeon can smell the alcohol in her breath, can feel the warmth in it—she’s so close.

Can she hear it?

Can she hear?

But Nayeon just cocks her head to the side, grinning widely.

“Well, maybe you’d be even more interested to know what I did next.”

Jeongyeon blinks, jerks back. “No.”

“Hell, yes.”

“Please don’t tell me you interrupted their date.”

“No! I’m not that mean!” Nayeon huffs, leaning back. “I just spilled my drink all over a little boy.”

“ _What?_ ”

“It was an accident!” Nayeon raises her hands up. “I was walking away, you know, like in a drama, and I didn’t know there was this little boy behind me, and I—er, the mom was very furious, though, and wouldn’t listen to my apologies.”

“I’d be livid too,” Jeongyeon shakes her head, laughing a little in spite of herself.

“I still am! He totally ruined my moment,” Nayeon grumbles, splaying her arms over the counter, resting her chin on them.

“You really are something else, Ms. Im,” Jeongyeon remarks a little breathlessly, watching the girl’s lips stretch out again into a happy grin.

“Yeah, but you’re still here, aren’t you?”

Jeongyeon raises her brow at her, resting her hand against her hip. “Where else would I be?”

There are soft smiles that are shared.

And beneath the droning of the bar’s music is the dull beating of a heavy heart.

There is a reason why Jeongyeon’s grumpy today.

Because Nayeon spends the rest of the night again sharing everything she loves about Hirai Momo, her childhood friend, and also the girl of her dreams.

Really—Im Nayeon could be the death of her.

\--

“Thinking about something?”

Jeongyeon breathes deeply, feels the burn light up her lungs, feels the nicotine fill up her insides in a way she kind of misses. But when she exhales, she sputters, coughs the smoke out. It comes out in wavy wisps in the air above her, broken and deformed.

“No,” she replies after a second, glancing up at her roommate.

“Really?” Jihyo raises a brow, the edges of her lips quirking up into a smirk.

Jeongyeon nods wordlessly, raising the cigarette up to her lips again. “Yep.”

The room they’re holed up in—Jeongyeon’s—is a little hot, the only source of ventilation the windows and the small fan in the corner. Jeongyeon can feel the sweat trickle down her chest, her arms.

Still, she keeps Jihyo’s arm wrapped around her.

The sounds of typing pause for a moment.

Jihyo glances up from her laptop again. “You can’t lie to me, Yoo Jeongyeon. We’ve been friends for years.”

“Friends?” Jeongyeon chuckles, looking up to meet her gaze in a small challenge.

It’s true they are friends, but right now they’re covered in nothing but blankets, bodies bare against the sheets underneath. And still very much slick with sweat.

The girl doesn’t avert her gaze, though.

“Got something to say?” Jihyo challenges.

Jeongyeon shakes her head, laughing a little. “No. It’s just a little ironic to say that _now_.”

“You’re acting like a teenager,” Jihyo rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the laptop resting on her abdomen.

“Maybe I am.”

“You’re 22 and older than me. Shut up.”

Jeongyeon giggles, sinking her teeth playfully on the skin of Jihyo’s arm. It earns her a light swat in the process.

“‘Friends,’” she whispers, eyeing the butt of the cigarette stick idly. Turning it around once, twice, in her hand. “Weird word, huh?”

Jihyo doesn’t even look up from her laptop this time, as she says, “You’re gonna make a lame joke again, aren’t you?”

“No,” Jeongyeon pinches at her. “I’m just… wondering.”

“I’m surprisingly curious what you’re wondering about.”

Jeongyeon tilts her head back, looking at Jihyo through an inverted angle. “Today, a regular called me a ‘friend’.”

“A regular,” Jihyo snorts. “You mean that unnie who keeps pestering you about her sad love story?”

“Correct,” Jeongyeon inhales into the cigarette stick again, eyes wandering to the lights of the outside filtering through the window, green against the nearby bar’s lighting. “She kept calling me a friend today.”

“Why’s that a problem?”

Jeongyeon hums. “Because I don’t know if I want to be friends with her.”

Jihyo chuckles. “You need to make new friends too, you know.”

“I do have other friends,” Jeongyeon protests, coughing one more time.

She scrunches her face at the cigarette, realizing then that maybe it’s really not for her anymore. She lifts herself up to crush it against the bottom of a box sitting on the nightstand.

“Uhuh, sure you do.”

“All of my customers are my friends,” Jeongyeon turns to Jihyo, grinning, as she begins crawling towards her, not at all bothering to cover up.

She’s also incredibly aware that she had told Im Nayeon the exact opposite just a few hours ago.

“Then you’re not just friendless, you’re also pathetic,” Jihyo chuckles, pausing to look up when Jeongyeon finally reaches her, face hovering just a few inches away. Jeongyeon can see the dim lights from the laptop screen reflected off her eyes.

“The thing is,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be her friend, because it’s probably gonna hurt so much.”

Jihyo’s gaze flickers between her two eyes, unreadable. “Well,” she shifts closer, voice falling into a soft murmur. “I can tell you right now—sometimes, you have to make sacrifices like that, just to keep her close. Don’t you think?”

The silence that envelops them is deafening. There’s a thickness in the air, so magnetizing, drawing in two warm bodies closer, closer—

“I have a paper to finish.” It’s Jihyo who breaks the silence first, looking away.

Jeongyeon looks away too, clearing her throat. “You’re no fun, Park Jihyo.”

“I’m the only one keeping you sane, Yoo Jeongyeon.”

Jeongyeon titters, falling back into the bed beside her, letting the small bouts of laughter wash away the tension, the years of unrequited pining.

She thinks instead of Im Nayeon, of next weekend—she’ll get to see her again then.

Maybe on that day she can stop talking about Hirai Momo once and for all.

\--

Jeongyeon blinks at the new arrival.

The bar today is full, and the few guests that have lingered around the counter have started small conversations with her—none too personal, really, just small talk.

But then a new girl has appeared, sitting herself down on the seat right in front of her.

“It’s… you…?” Jeongyeon lets the comment slip, watches the other girl’s shoulder slump.

“It’s me,” Mina confirms a little dishearteningly. “Is there a drink for the day? Do you guys do that here?”

Jeongyeon thinks for a moment. “Well, we do have a special brew we haven’t named yet. Part of a secret menu.” She lowers her voice in that moment, leaning closer. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but maybe you need it?”

“ _God_ , yes,” Mina sighs. “I need it.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t suppress her chuckle as she leans back, preparing a tall glass from one of the cupboards.

Mina watches her silently as she prepares the drink, eyes swimming with something she can’t quite put a finger on. Curiosity? Anxiety? A strange eagerness? And Jeongyeon doesn’t need to know it’s her first time doing this—she supposes she’ll just have to keep an eye on her for the rest of the night.

“Chaeyoung… tells me you’re a good listener.”

The quiet voice startles her out of her reverie. She looks around at the other girl, meets her expectant gaze beneath her long lashes.

“I… try my best,” Jeongyeon shrugs, watches the drink fizz inside the glass. Just a slice of lemon left, and it’ll be complete.

The girl taps an irregular beat on the counter, licking her lips a few times. “Have you ever felt… like, er, like you like someone so much your heart could burst, Ms. Bartender?”

Jeongyeon pauses, laughing softly. “At least once a year.”

Mina sighs, running her hands through her hair. “I feel like I’m stuck.”

Jeongyeon closes one eye as she carefully, very carefully lets the slice of lemon rest against the lip of the glass. She smiles proudly at her new creation. “We all feel stuck every once in a while. It’s normal to feel stuck.”

“I just… hate being stuck,” Mina mumbles, eyes trained on the drink as it is set down in front of her.

“It does suck,” Jeongyeon nods, watching Mina closely. Gauges her reaction as she says the next few words. “It really sucks too, if the person you like is pining for someone else.”

Jeongyeon isn’t lying anyways—it _really_ does suck—but Mina’s stare doesn’t falter from the drink, her gaze so intense it could melt the glass if she wanted to.

Then, she takes the glass and pours it into her mouth.

“Yeah,” Mina nods, once she’s finished at least half of it, setting it back down on the counter. “It sucks.”

Jeongyeon smiles a little sadly.

“Earlier today, the person I like—they, uh, confessed to the girl they liked,” Mina sighs.

Jeongyeon frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it. Not like it’s your fault either.”

 _It kind of is_ , Jeongyeon wants to say, but she keeps her mouth shut, waiting instead for Mina to continue.

“I heard they’re gonna go on a date tomorrow,” the smile on Mina’s face feels painful even for Jeongyeon to see. “I’m happy for—for he—them. But…” she takes another swig of her drink, sighing in relief once she’s finished it. “But it still hurts, you know?”

Jeongyeon smiles. “Yeah, it does.”

It’s a weekend today. The time on the clock reads 11:45 PM.

But there is nobody else besides Mina to talk to.

\--

The next day, it’s Chaeyoung who stops by the bar, giggling and smiling incessantly, thanking her again and again for giving her the push she needed.

She doesn’t need to know it’s at the expense of somebody else close to her—she can’t know.

And as she watches Chaeyoung sip on her glass, going off about Chou Tzuyu and how her rare smiles could literally light up the world, could sell for millions at an art gallery (yeah, Chaeyoung gets dramatic like that), she realizes painfully once again the downsides to holding these drunken secrets. She thinks back to Mina, just a day before, spilling silent tears as she finished her second glass, to the way she’d repeated a single name over and over again just before another friend of hers arrived.

Some secrets are painful to keep.

But the person whose secrets she hated the most does not show up again that day.

\--

“Hey.”

“Hm?” Jihyo looks up from the kitchen counter.

Jeongyeon’s splayed out on the worn couch in the living area, rubbing lazy circles around her abdomen, staring at the small television set against the corner. She looks at Jihyo once.

“Do you think I should find a new job?”

“That’s pretty out of the blue,” Jihyo chuckles, turning back again to the vegetables that lay untouched in front of her. The instructions on her phone reads that she needs to chop them first into smaller pieces.

“It’s not,” Jeongyeon argues.

“You’re barely out of your third month,” Jihyo reasons, finally taking the large butcher’s knife hanging from the rack. “And you haven’t even finished your portfolio yet.”

Jeongyeon watches her struggle with each cut, and it’s then she notices she’s holding a butcher’s knife to cut vegetables. She sighs, jumping out of her seat.

“You—you don’t need to use that.”

She takes the large knife out of the girl’s hand, opts instead for a smaller one. Jihyo watches as she deftly chops up the vegetables as per the phone’s instructions, smiling lazily.

“I could kiss you right now,” the comment slips out of Jihyo’s mouth before she can help it.

Jeongyeon pauses, glancing at the other girl momentarily, eyes blown a little wide.

She forces out a laugh. “Well, I’m not letting you.”

Jihyo smiles tightly.

Lately, these tense silences have begun growing in number.

\--

On the fourth month, Jeongyeon finishes typing up her resignation letter.

It’s nothing personal, really—she enjoys her job. There are stories she enjoys listening to, and she has made friends in the bar—particularly in Mina and Chaeyoung, though it’s still a little painful to hear one talk about the other and hear the other talk about somebody else.

It’s nothing personal—she supposes it’s just not for her.

Though, as she enters the bar, her letter ready in her bag, her heart almost stops at the sight of a familiar figure leaning against the counter.

It’s not even late yet, still barely out of evening.

Still, Im Nayeon sees her, smiles, and waves.

“It’s strange seeing you in anything other than your uniform,” Nayeon comments when she nears, resting her cheek against her palm.

Jeongyeon adjusts her jacket subconsciously, feeling utterly helpless in the presence of the other girl. There is a letter in her bag. There is a letter.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Jeongyeon returns, offering a small smile. It’s been a month.

“Missed me?” Nayeon smirks.

Jeongyeon wants to say no.

But the “yes” that comes after forces its way out her mouth before she can stop it.

Nayeon softens at that, brushing her fingertips along her arm.

“I missed you too.”

She’s close. So close. The warmth of her breath tickles the skin on her arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her lips are so red, the heart in its shape defined starkly with the lipstick.

She could really kiss her right then and there.

Instead, she steps back, forcing out a chuckle. “Well, you’ll probably miss me more now that I’m quitting.”

Nayeon deflates. “What?” her voice comes out much quieter than usual.

“Yep. I’m handing in my letter today,” Jeongyeon tells her, smiling tightly.

“But… why?”

Jeongyeon watches her closely, sees the light crease in her brows, the lines forming on her forehead. The way her lips are downturned, the emotions swimming in her dark irises.

It’s strange, how contrasting the image looks now, just from a few seconds ago.

Doesn’t she look a little sad?

“I—” Jeongyeon breathes out, meeting her gaze.

_You weren’t here._

She smiles.

_Seeing you hurt a lot._

“Just kidding,” Jeongyeon grins cheekily.

The relief physically washes over Nayeon like the waves of the ocean on a hot summer day.

It makes Jeongyeon’s chest hurt.

“You almost got me there, Ms. Bartender,” Nayeon giggles, resting her chin against her two palms.

Jeongyeon moves around the counter, preparing the set of keys she has in her pockets.

“You really believed me.”

“I didn’t think you’d make jokes like that,” Nayeon says.

Jeongyeon flashes her a smile.

“I was excited to tell you about what I’ve been up to.”

“Find yourself a new girlfriend?” Jeongyeon chuckles.

“As a matter of fact…” Nayeon’s eyes glint against the dimmed lighting. “Yes.”

Oh.

Oh.

So, this is why.

So, this—

Jeongyeon turns away, twists the key into the knob. “I’m happy for you.”

Nayeon tilts her head a little. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say?” Jeongyeon glances at her. “I’m just your bartender, who’d listened to you talk about one girl for a whole month.”

“Aren’t you happy I’ll be talking about someone else now?”

Jeongyeon pushes the door open without answering.

\--

Her name is Jennie Kim. She’s a transferee from New Zealand, and they’d met in a café down the block from Nayeon’s workplace.

They’re not together—no, Nayeon insists. But she’s doing a damn good job at helping her forget about Hirai Momo. She’s kind and sweet, but brash when she needs to—sometimes it astounds her how well their personalities mesh together when they’ve only recently just met.

Nayeon talks about her for the rest of the night, and all Jeongyeon can do is listen. Just as she does every single time.

There’s a resignation letter in her bag.

There’s a resignation letter.

She watches Nayeon’s face light up with each story.

Maybe one day.

For now, she can sit still and simply listen to the girl talking about her new crush, ignoring the incessant pounding in her ears.

\--

It goes on like this for a few more weeks, maybe even a few months. Nayeon brings Jennie over a few times, and Jeongyeon often watches them from her booth, watches as they share a hug after winning an arcade game or a game of darts, dancing together on the dance floor.

Some sights can be magnetizing, even if it pricks like a sweet rose’s thorns.

Sometimes, they even talk, just briefly—she’s a nice girl, if a bit intense. She supposes it’s because she’d grown up in a much different environment. But Nayeon’s eyes are always drawn to her. She can’t blame her—she does have the power to grab one’s attention.

Still, in this bar—

Back then, Nayeon had her attention focused solely on her.

“Jeongyeon-unnie.”

The soft voice snaps her back into reality, and when she turns, she finds Mina staring at her expectantly with an empty glass in her hand.

“Sorry,” Jeongyeon chuckles, uncapping the beer bottle and pouring the contents in.

“Don’t worry,” Mina smiles gratefully, bringing the glass back up to her lips for a quick sip. Her nose scrunches up instinctively at the bitter taste.

“How’s your… uh, situation?” Jeongyeon asks.

“I still meet with her each time for tutoring sessions,” Mina answers, staring absentmindedly at the liquid swirling in the cup. “It’s hard, but it gets easier. At least, I think it does.”

Jeongyeon smiles. Though Mina’s stories had sounded an awful lot like Nayeon’s over the past few weeks, she’s a lot less louder than her. Calmer. She visits only to drown her sorrows out in alcohol, nothing more, nothing less, and it isn’t even weekly.

Jeongyeon pours herself a small glass as well, clinks it with Mina’s.

“Amen to that,” she mutters, downing it all in one go.

Mina watches her as she releases a breath, letting the slight buzz trickle easily into her veins, around her body. The younger girl rests her arm against the counter, glances at the dance floor.

“Nayeon-unnie is rather pretty,” she comments.

“Sure, she tells herself that a lot,” Jeongyeon snickers, preparing another drink for a different customer.

Mina watches her curiously. “Is it getting easier for you too?”

Jeongyeon stills, feels her chest hollow out just for the briefest second. She looks up at Mina, staring at her expectantly, no malice or accusation in her expression.

“Is it that obvious?” she asks quietly.

Mina smiles. “Maybe not, but I’d like to think we’re friends, and friends do notice some things.”

Jeongyeon sets the glass down. She doesn’t move for a moment. “I wish it would just end.”

“I do too,” Mina sighs, sipping on her drink again, looking at her through her lashes.

“It’d be much easier if I had just… fallen in love with my best friend,” Jeongyeon mumbles absentmindedly.

Mina raises a brow, prodding, but Jeongyeon doesn’t answer—can’t answer that.

She thinks about Jihyo, about the countless nights they spend together, ever since the end of high school. She tries not to think about the things she knows, the things Jihyo whispers when she thinks she’s asleep.

Why can’t she just—?

_“Yoo Jeongyeon!”_

Jeongyeon eyelids slowly flutter open. The voice, whining like a baby, standing out distinctly over the low speakers. She watches the older girl, the brunette with the bunny teeth, approach her, a big smile plastered on her face. Watches her gaze flicker between her and Mina, watches the smile falter.

“You guys seem to be having fun,” she says.

“It’s fun without you here,” Jeongyeon retorts, sighing as she turns away.

Mina could only smile politely. “We were just talking.”

Nayeon nods a little too quickly, before she moves to stand beside Mina, leaning forward. “How about another shot, Ms. Bartender?”

“Haven’t you had enough?” Jeongyeon says as she sets the finished drink down on the counter, sliding it toward a different customer.

“The night’s still young.”

“I’m not escorting you home again,” Jeongyeon presses forward, looking down at the stubborn girl.

Nayeon flashes her a pearly white smile, staring up. “Of course not. I’ve got Jennie.”

Jennie.

Right.

Jeongyeon huffs as she pours her another glass, making it a point not to break eye contact the entire time.

“Have fun,” she tells her, barely managing to conceal the low hiss, as she hands her the glass.

She doesn’t see Nayeon’s eyes flash dangerously, doesn’t see her smile fall, just before she pours the drink down her throat and sets the glass back down on the counter. She watches her as she walks back to the dance floor, the sway of her hips accentuated by the tight pants she’d decided to wear that night.

Beside her, Mina could only watch her, eyes inquisitive, lips pressed to the rim of her cup.

What a mess.

Lately, it’s been getting harder to control herself.

\--

There’s a small pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, all tousled and scattered, covered some more by sheets of paper, old documents and essays she’d written back when she was still in college. Jeongyeon pulls out a notebook, a folder, looks through them and quickly throws them to the bed when she doesn’t find what she’s looking for.

From the doorway, Jihyo watches her with her arms crossed, brows furrowed questioningly.

“Your room’s a mess,” she comments.

“No shit.”

“It’s not usually a mess,” Jihyo uncrosses her arms and walks in. “What are you looking for?”

“My letter.”

“Letter?”

“Resignation letter— _fuck_ ,” Jeongyeon hisses, struggling against a stuck zipper. Jihyo watches sympathetically.

“Why do you need it?”

“I’m quitting my job.”

Jihyo takes a seat on her bed, cocking her head to the side. “You said that months ago.”

“I mean it now,” Jeongyeon huffs, getting up. “Where’d I put it?”

“You could just write a new one.”

Jeongyeon looks at her helplessly. “I—I need—” she runs her hands through her hair, heaving out a heavy breath. “I just need that one.”

Jihyo watches her carefully from the bed, a silent question in the darkness of her eyes. A question they both kind of know the answer to.

Jihyo looks away then. “Is it because of her?”

Jeongyeon squeezes her eyes shut, clenches her fists at her side.

“Is all this because of her?” Jihyo repeats, squeezing at the bridge of her nose.

“Jihyo, I—” Jeongyeon steps towards her. “Let’s—let’s not talk about this.”

“Are you scared of hurting me?” Jihyo questions, staring daggers in her eyes. Her voice rose in that instant, hints of anger trickling into her usually calm tenor. Her eyelids twitch once, twice.

Her dark eyes glimmer with the onslaught of tears.

“No, I—I would never—” Jeongyeon reaches her in two quick strides, crouches in front of her. She doesn’t really have anything to say.

What can she say, really?

Jihyo sighs, squeezing her eyes shut again, shaking her head. “I’ve always known you’d never…”

“Jihyo—”

“You’d never feel the same way,” Jihyo finishes, standing up. “And I’ve always known, ever since you’d started talking about her, that you’d—” she takes in a steadying breath. “You—you have feelings for her, don’t you?”

The smile on her face feels painful even for Jeongyeon to look at.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon tells her softly.

Jihyo shakes her head. “I just—I just wish you’d never kissed me then.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She watches as the girl turns and leaves, listens as she hears their shared front door slam close, the jingle of keys fading with the her footsteps. She breathes only when it’s completely silent, when she knows the girl’s gone, and then she collapses to her knees.

She’s been a pretty shitty friend, really.

Ever since she’d kissed her best friend, all those years ago, under the shade of a tree and the glum thunderstorm.

All so she could feel something, anything, other than the aching of her first heartbreak.

She’d felt haunted then, but she couldn’t stop, not when the other girl had stared at her with stars in her eyes, not when she could see the pink in her cheeks, her ears.

But now the memory’s come back to haunt her, has finally caught up to her after all these years.

She’s really been such a shitty friend.

But still, she needs to find that resignation letter, at least.

\--

Nayeon waits at the bar, observing the relatively small number of people loitering about in the gaming areas idly as she sips on a bottle of water. There’s some commotion at the back, before a bartender comes out of the backroom, wearing his casual attire.

He flashes her a polite smile, to which she returns, before he leaves.

It’ll be a few minutes more. Just a few minutes more.

Her phone screen stares back at her, polluted with unread messages. She closes her eyes, presses the device against her forehead.

Like a silent apology.

The door swings open again.

Nayeon turns around, expectant—

Only to see Jeongyeon’s red-rimmed eyes staring back at her.

She sniffles once, turns her head away again.

“What are you doing here?” she mutters hoarsely before striding forwards, not even bothering to spare her another glance. She moves quickly around the counter without stopping to talk to her.

“I—I need to—wait,” Nayeon catches her arm, yanks her back. It halts her pace just for a moment.

There’s an envelope in her hand.

Nayeon bites her bottom lip, eyeing the item suspiciously.

“What’s that?” she questions, her eyes narrowing.

Jeongyeon glances at it. “My resignation form.”

“You’re—quit joking,” Nayeon chuckles incredulously. “It’s never been a funny joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” Jeongyeon tells her lowly. “Not anymore.”

Nayeon’s eyes widen. Suddenly, the air around them feels thinner.

Something inside her sinks.

“Don’t—no. Why—that can’t be true—”

“Why do you care anyways?” Jeongyeon bites back, tearing her arm away from her grip. Her shoulders are tensed—it’s so foreign, the way she’s guarded like this.

Nayeon’s smile falters. “I—of course I care. We’re friends, after all.”

“ _Friends_?” Jeongyeon releases an incredulous breath. “I told you—we were never friends.”

“But—” Nayeon inhales sharply. “I thought—you always—”

“Nayeon,” Jeongyeon stares at her desperately. “I _can’t_ be friends with you.”

“But why?”

Jeongyeon forces a smile unto her face. “Because it hurts listening to you talk about someone else every _goddamn_ time.”

She draws back, watching as the words slowly sink into the other girl, as realization slowly dawns on her. And when she looks up, Jeongyeon turns around, hoping to escape into the backroom.

“Yoo Jeongyeon, wait.”

“Let’s just stop, Im Nayeon. Seriously. Let’s jus—”

The girl grabs her again by the wrist, tugging her away from the door, forces her to face her fully.

A thin sheen of tears envelops her eyes.

“I…” Nayeon breathes out. “We need to talk.”

“No,” Jeongyeon says with finality. “You have Kim Jennie now, don’t you?”

Nayeon looks as if she’s been stung. “I… No, wait, listen, Jennie is important to me, but, I just—I can’t feel the same way with her, somehow.”

Jeongyeon narrows her eyes. “What are you even—?”

The door swings open again.

At the doorway, Mina stands, staring at the pair with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Her eyes find Jeongyeon’s first, a desperate plea hidden beneath the thin shimmer of forming tears.

“I—” Mina withdraws her hand from the doorknob. “I must be interrupting, I’m so—”

Jeongyeon pulls herself off Nayeon’s grip, giving her a small apologetic look, before she walks over to the other girl.

She envelops her in a hug, one that isn’t asked for, but one she thinks she’s needed for some time now. But now, without the boundary of a bar’s countertop, it’s different.

Mina sobs into her shoulder.

Nayeon watches them, her eyes unreadable. She brushes her hand against her wrist.

“Chaeyoung found out,” Mina breathes out.

Jeongyeon rubs at her back. “She did?”

“I told her, and… I don’t know,” Mina pulls back, sniffles, wipes away the tears from her face. “She left. I don’t know where she is. I tried to contact her, but—”

Jeongyeon rests her hands on her shoulders. “We’ll find her, okay?”

Mina nods wordlessly.

Jeongyeon looks back at Nayeon, who returns her gaze, her expression unreadable.

She looks away.

The door opens and they step out into the night.

\--

“Is it really okay for you to be out here with me?”

Mina’s soft voice pierces the silent atmosphere between them, her breaths coming out in small, white puffs, dissipating into the cold air. It will be winter soon. The roads are relatively empty, where they are now. And Mina’s phone dies with another unanswered call.

Jeongyeon adjusts her jacket. “Of course.”

“You looked busy, though,” Mina tells her.

“It can wait,” Jeongyeon smiles sincerely. “For a friend like you.”

Mina’s lips quirk up into a small smile, but it disappears quickly. “I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You don’t get it. If I’d just… it was my decision to keep hanging around her,” Mina chuckles bitterly. “I pretended everything was okay. I kept telling myself it was getting easier, when it wasn’t.

“And then I broke. She was so close,” Mina buries her face in her hands. “I kissed her.”

Jeongyeon feels her heart seize, feels the guilt rising like bitter bile up her throat.

Somehow, Mina reminds her of herself, back when she was younger.

And even now.

Jeongyeon sighs. “I know how you feel.”

“She has a girlfriend, and I fucking kissed her,” Mina hisses, grabbing fistfuls of her hair, as if she’s about to pull them out. “How messed up can I be?”

“People make mistakes,” Jeongyeon says. “It’s my fault too; I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“I wouldn’t have listened, anyways,” Mina shakes her head. “Because I was so, _so_ stupid and so selfish.”

Jeongyeon sighs into the night air, watching the clouds up above, the skies absent of visible stars. Her breath travels as soft wisps into the heavens above. It’s getting colder and colder.

“I’m just as stupid as you then.”

Mina chuckles. “Pray, tell.”

“Six years ago, I kissed my best friend under a tree. Four years ago, we slept together, and we’ve been sleeping together since then,” Jeongyeon says. “And then later, I fell for someone else.”

Mina regards her evenly, the light of humor, however, still twinkling in the black of her irises. “I guess we’re meant to be friends, after all, unnie,” she takes her hand, gives it a light squeeze. “We’re two messed up people.”

“Walking together to somehow fix our messes.”

Mina smiles sadly at the sentiment.

“What about Nayeon-unnie?”

Jeongyeon hums. “I gave her somewhat of a confession.”

“Somewhat?”

“Somewhat,” Jeongyeon chuckles. “But now, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“The reason…” Jeongyeon breathes, looking up, feeling the asphalt beneath her crunching with every footstep. They grow closer and closer towards the field, a vast park, as the silhouette of a familiar building forms in the distance. “The reason I kissed my best friend then—and it’s not an excuse, I know—was because my boyfriend had broken up with me.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m scared I’ll experience that again, and then I’ll do something stupid.”

Mina shakes her head. “But you’re not going to get anywhere in life staying scared all the time, are you?”

Jeongyeon whips around to stare at her, eyes wide.

She remembers those words.

Once upon a time, she’d said it to a timid sophomore.

Mina smiles. “She told me.”

Jeongyeon chuckles incredulously. “I’ve never really listened to my own advice.”

“Maybe it’s time you do,” Mina’s words trail off, her breath hitching just as the sentence ends.

Jeongyeon stops too.

They find themselves in a park, with an old high school looming over them in the distance.

In the park is a single tree, barren of leaves. Underneath that tree are two girls, caught in an embrace.

They both recognize them.

As they approach, the taller girl’s head tilts to them.

Jihyo’s expression falls in that moment.

Jeongyeon cringes with each footstep.

Sighing, Jihyo turns around to stare at the girl in her arms, tugging her softly away. Chaeyoung pulls away slowly, her expression dark and guarded. She turns to the oncoming pair.

They stop, just a few feet away from them.

“Hi,” it’s Jeongyeon who says it, her voice much more timid now.

The two girls don’t reply.

“You—you two know each other?” Jeongyeon tries again, squinting at them.

“I think,” Mina intervenes, glancing up at the taller girl. “I think Chaeyoung and I need to talk.”

A beat of silence passes between them, filled with unsaid words waiting to burst out of their lungs.

Until Jihyo finally sighs. She turns to look at Chaeyoung pointedly, eyes prodding.

“Chaeyoung?”

The younger girl sighs too, finally looking up to Mina.

Her expression looks broken.

“Come on, Mina-unnie,” Chaeyoung mutters, offering her palm.

The other girl takes it.

They walk off, just a little ways further, still visible, but not close enough to be heard.

And that leaves Jeongyeon and Jihyo.

“So.”

Jihyo’s smile tightens—a façade of politeness, really. She pockets her hands in her jeans, looking up expectantly at Jeongyeon.

“I…” Jeongyeon starts, rubbing at the nape of her neck sheepishly. “I’ve been a horrible friend.”

Jihyo doesn’t say anything.

Jeongyeon continues, nodding a little to herself. “On that day, many years ago, I was a stupid kid, who had just recently broken up with her boyfriend. I… I didn’t know how to deal with it, and so I kissed my best friend.”

Jihyo clenches her jaw, blinking rapidly. “Wow.”

“I know, and there’s no excuse,” Jeongyeon shakes her head. “What I did then was horrible, but I couldn’t stop. I was scared because… because you had this look… I was…”

She presses her fingers against her eyes, willing the tears away. It’s not in her place to cry in front of the person she’d hurt for years.

“I was afraid of hurting you. I was scared that if I stopped, if we stopped, that you’d get hurt,” she says, through a deep breath, lowering her fingertips. Her eyes are still rimmed red, tears lining the corners of her eyelids. “And I knew, eventually, that if I kept it up, it’d only worsen. But I couldn’t stop, because I was so scared—so scared.”

She looks up. Letting the first tear fall.

“I didn’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend, Jihyo. I couldn’t lose that.”

The gaze that meets hers is blank, dark against the nighttime, unreadable. The silence stretches thin against the cold air, heavy-laden with the words she’d finally laid bare for the first time in years.

If only they reached her.

If only—

Jihyo sighs, averts her gaze.

“I was just as stupid as you,” she says. “I knew. I don’t know when, but I did—I knew you didn’t… feel the same way I did. But I hoped, I guess.”

She smiles sadly.

“I’d hoped that maybe that could change, that one day, maybe you’d—maybe you’d also return my feelings. Sometimes, I even think, that if I just tried harder, that if I actually told you, that maybe you’d…”

She chuckles bitterly, shaking her head. She looks up to the sky in a vain effort to keep the tears from spilling.

Still, a single stray tear flows down the side of her face.

“I can’t really be mad at you or cut off ties with you for that, because the fault is in you just as it is in mine,” Jihyo says, her voice hoarse, fragile. “But I can’t really bear to be near you right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongyeon lowers her head.

“I’m sorry too,” Jihyo shakes her head. “But right now, I can’t forgive you. Not right now. It’s too… _new_. But, Yoo Jeongyeon—”

She steps forward.

“You’d never lose me.”

Jeongyeon meets her wet gaze. Filled with so much intensity it physically pains her. She feels her lips downturn, trembling, feels her cheeks straining.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I—”

She buries her face in her hands, curling her fingers there.

Jihyo can only look away.

“You… should leave.”

Jeongyeon looks at her through the gaps between her fingertips.

“You won’t lose me,” Jihyo sighs. “But there’s someone else you can’t bear to lose either.”

Jeongyeon lowers her hands, stares at her fully. Her eyes twinkling against the moonlight.

“Go.”

Jeongyeon presses her trembling lips together, eyes searching for Jihyo’s. The other girl’s gaze softens in spite of the darkness, meeting hers just for the briefest moments.

“I’m sorry.”

Jihyo looks away. “I know.”

Her gaze lingers on her for a few more seconds. Just a bit more. Before she finally turns away.

Jihyo doesn’t look, just listens to the receding footsteps that disappear into the night. The wind brushes through her hair, through the thin clothing, pricks at her skin with its cold kisses. She shivers, wraps her arms around herself as she looks up to the sky.

It stings.

Her eyes string, as the cold breeze blows at it.

Jeongyeon is gone.

And now her tears fall freely to the ground beneath her feet.

The image of the girl, alone against the backdrop of the night sky is mirrored, just a few feet away from them, as a shorter girl looks sullenly away, as the taller girl beside her cries into her palms.

\--

Her breaths come out in short puffs in front of her.

The wind whips at her hoodie, at the strands of her hair. The cold nips at the nape of her bare neck.

Her legs feel heavy beneath her. Each step bringing a strain to her thigh.

The bar is so close, so close.

Still, she continues running.

There is someone she needs to talk to, someone she should have talked to, really, ever since she’d realized it a few months ago.

She slams the door open, panting.

But the girl is no longer there.

Her wide eyes veer around, searching and searching through the thick crowds that have occupied the bar’s area, ignoring her fellow bartender’s yapping at her late arrival.

Where is she?

_Where is she?_

She runs her hand through her hair, looking down. Her eyes sting. Her vision swims with the movement of bodies around her.

Did she leave?

_Is she too late?_

Something tugs her back.

She whips around, finds Nayeon staring at her through the masses. Her eyes blank, but her brows furrowed.

A breath of relief escapes her.

She lets herself be pulled back, out of the crowd and back into the night.

There’s a chill in the air.

Nayeon sighs as her eyes sweep over her.

“You’re back,” she mutters vacantly.

“I am,” Jeongyeon nods a little too eagerly. Her fingers jitter at her sides, and she has to pocket them just to keep them still.

Nayeon blinks, looks down to her feet. “Then, I guess it’s time for me to leave.”

She turns momentarily, but Jeongyeon grabs her by the arm, keeping her there. She looks up at her, furrowing her brows.

“Don’t leave,” Jeongyeon says, her tone almost desperate, voice breathless. “Please. Nayeon.”

Nayeon visibly swallows, gaze flickering between her two eyes. “You… didn’t seem to want to hear me out a while ago.”

“That was then. This is now,” Jeongyeon tells her, facing her fully. “And now, I need to tell you something.”

Nayeon purses her lips.

Jeongyeon loosens her grip, letting her hand fall idly back to her sides. She takes a few breaths, a few moments just to ready herself. Her eyes flutter close in thought.

She remembers high school, remembers the day she’d first confessed to the boy who’d eventually become her first boyfriend and her first heartbreak. She remembers the nerves she’d felt then, and then the pain that would come after.

Her eyes open.

She looks at Nayeon.

A different person, but with the same power to hurt her, in the same way that innocent high school boy had, all those years ago.

Except she’s older now too. Time has already passed.

She remembers Mina, remembers her words.

_I feel like I’m stuck._

“Nayeon, I’m not good with confessions,” she starts after a heavy breath. “But the first weeks since we’d met, I was sure I disliked you. You were loud, talked endlessly about random things, about a certain girl you liked.”

Jeongyeon presses forward. Nayeon watches wordlessly.

“And then one day, suddenly, it physically hurt to listen to you talk on and on about the same girl,” she mutters, recalling her demeanor then, how bitterly she had acted. “I’m sorry I was grumpy to you then, and again for many days after. I’d realized it already then, but when you disappeared—”

She bites her bottom lip, stepping another foot forward.

“It hurt not seeing you, and it hurt seeing you,” Jeongyeon chuckles bitterly. “Honestly, I was so confused with myself, I’d written a resignation form.”

Nayeon purses her lips together as she watches her, still silent. Eyes unreadable.

“But then, when I saw you again,” Jeongyeon shakes her head. “I was so happy, I—I ended up hiding that form away again, and I’d known then, had become completely sure of it—

“Im Nayeon, I like you.”

Nayeon’s eyes widen. From her lips, a breath comes out slowly, one she doesn’t realize she’s been holding. Just a few feet across her, Jeongyeon’s cheeks redden like a full bloom. There’s a beat of silence first, before Jeongyeon says again:

“I like you. And I’m sorry—I’m sorry it took this long, I’m sorry about earlier, because all I know is that I like you, and I really don’t know how to deal with it—”

Jeongyeon’s words are cut off in an instant.

A pair of soft lips press against hers in a chaste and innocent kiss. No tongue. No teeth. Just a sweet peck that lasts no more than five seconds.

Somehow, Jeongyeon still smiles cheekily in the aftermath, regarding Nayeon curiously as they pull away, breathless against each other’s touch.

She doesn’t get to move away, as Nayeon keeps her there, gripping hard against the collar of her hoodie.

Her voice is a whisper, as she tells her, “I like you too, dumbass.”

The laugh that escapes her then is saturated, dripping heavily with the unmasked joy that fills her as she hears those words. It comes out like a breath of fresh air, withdrawn after months spent drowning without dying.

“What about—what about J—?”

“Turns out I can be as dense as you,” Nayeon whispers. “I thought about it, when I saw you talking with your friend, Mina, why I felt suddenly angry.

“There’s a reason why I don’t want you to quit, why I always come back, one way or another,” she draws closer, breathing warm air into the taller girl’s lips. “I wanted you to keep listening; I wanted to keep talking to you, Ms. Bartender.”

Jeongyeon sighs easily, eyes fluttering close as she presses her forehead against Nayeon’s. “I wanted you to keep coming back to me.”

“Then,” Nayeon grins. “Be my girlfriend?”

There is fear, no doubt about it, a fear that chases after each steady heartbeat inside her ribcage, a fear that crawls up to her spine each time she feels this sensation. She’s scared—she’s not the best person in the world, after all. There are a lot of things wrong with her, a lot of things she’s not at all proud of.

“I might be bad at it,” she whispers, looking at Nayeon’s eyes searchingly. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of—I’ve hurt people I love, I… What if I mess up?”

The other girl only smiles. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

There’s fear, no doubt, but there is also Im Nayeon, staring up at her now with stars in her eyes, with red cheeks, with a little smile poking out of her pressed lips.

And so, Jeongyeon kisses her again.

But this time she means it.

In the dark of night, beneath a neon sign, two girls embrace each other for the first time, laughing giddily into the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> This probably would have worked/developed better if it was multichapter... but I don't really have time for it right now so I'm sorry. :(
> 
> Last post before I finally disappear to do my plates. Thank you for reading!
> 
> @genuslocii on twitter. :)


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